Best Laid Plans
by janiejanine
Summary: Hawke corners Anders with seduction in mind. Rated M for smut.


_Tonight's the night_, Hawke thought, gazing at Anders over the tops of her cards. Tonight she'd take matters into her own hands. She'd tried subtlety, dropping hints and double entendres, but gotten no results. It was time for the direct approach.

She'd always found him attractive. He was a beautiful man, for all his disheveled appearance, and he'd been featuring in her fantasies more and more. She often caught herself staring at him, wondering what was under that bulky coat, how his hair would feel if she tangled her fingers in it, how he'd look under her, writhing and moaning and begging for release. Sometimes it was all she could do not to just grab him and drag him into an alley somewhere.

She knew all about his past. As soon as she'd decided to act on her attraction, she'd set about finding out the facts. Asking him directly had been a failure; she'd gotten some entertaining stories, about the Circle and the Wardens and general sexual deviancy, but not much information, although she'd been disappointed to discover that while Wardens had prodigious appetites in all things, Grey Warden stamina and all the other intriguing-sounding enhancements were myths. Fortunately, Isabela had an excellent memory for dirty details and was more than happy to share. The more she learned about his...talents, the more she was convinced that it would be a crime to allow them both to go without.

Hawke had never been one to deny herself little pleasures. Life was short. If she wanted something, and it wasn't hurting anyone, why shouldn't she take it? She'd never force herself on someone who wasn't interested, of course; but in this case, if her feelings weren't requited, she'd eat her left gauntlet.

Anders wasn't good at hiding his emotions. Anger, concern, desire, all were written plainly on his face whenever he felt them, and when he looked at her, he couldn't mask the deep well of hurt and longing that she saw there. And if she could help ease some of that, and have some fun herself in the bargain, well, she failed to see the downside.

She glanced at him. He was staring into his mug, brow furrowed, lost in some private worry.

Maker, that man needed to get laid.

This was going to be _fun_.

If he'd been surprised when she offered to walk back to the clinic with him, he hadn't objected. That had to be a good sign. When they arrived it was quiet, at least as quiet as Darktown ever got. He lit a lantern, illuminating the room with a soft glow.

Once he'd closed the door, she put her plan into action. "I've been waiting all night to get you alone," she said, standing just a little too close.

He looked uncertain. "Did you need something?"

"I worry about you sometimes." She reached up and brushed a lock of hair from his forehead. "You're always so tense."

He leaned into her touch, just briefly, before catching himself and pulling away. "I have a lot on my mind," he said.

"You need to relax. I can help with that, you know."

"Oh?" Understanding dawned on his face. "Oh."

"I'm very good. I can promise you won't regret it."

"I don't..."

"One night with me isn't going to hurt your cause. It might even help you, you know, keep in touch with your humanity. I know you worry about that." She paused. "No offense, Justice."

He smiled a bit at that. "None taken."

She moved closer, letting her hand play over his chest, finding the entrance to his coat. Her fingers worked at the buckles, and after just a few moments, it was sliding off his shoulders and onto the floor.

He blinked. "How did you do that?"

"I unlock things for a living, remember."

She shrugged off her own jacket and let it drop. He flushed when he noticed the outline of her breasts under the thin linen of her shirt, then tore his eyes away and stared determinedly at a spot over her shoulder.

"You watch me," she whispered. "When you think I'm not looking. Do you think about me when you're all alone? When you touch yourself? Because I think about you."

He squeezed his eyes shut. "Hawke, I _can't_."

"Can't? Or don't want to? If you really, truly don't fancy me, just say so, and I promise I'll leave you alone."

"No, I...I didn't mean it like that. You're an amazing woman. Tempting. _Maddening_. You're a.."

"A distraction. I know." Fine. Let him see how much of a _distraction_ she could be.

She backed him towards the wall until his knees hit the edge of the cot and he sat down with a soft _oof_. Perfect. She knelt over him, straddling his lap, and let her hands wander.

She trailed her fingers over his chest, down his sides, over his thighs. His hardness pressed against her belly.

"Would you like to know what I want?" She watched his face, still lightly stroking him. Finally, he gave an almost imperceptible nod.

She leaned in and purred into his ear. "I want you to take me on my hands and knees and up against the wall. I want you to fuck me in the Chantry confessional. I want to take you in my mouth and suck you until you scream my name. I want you to tie me down and spread me open and make me come, over and over and over again." She tugged at his earlobe with her teeth. "But first...I want to hear you say it. Tell me you want me as much as I want you."

Eyes closed, breathing labored, he shook his head.

He groaned _"Yes."_

Gently, she pulled at the laces of his trousers and opened them, freeing his length. He had the _prettiest_ cock she'd ever seen, long, slender, elegant, just like the rest of him, with one perfect pearly drop glistening at the tip.

She leaned down and licked it off.

His entire body shuddered at the contact. She swirled her tongue lazily over his silky tip, and he inhaled sharply, hands clenched at his sides.

"You don't have to be quiet," she murmured. "There's no one around. We can make as much noise as we want."

"But..."

"I like it," she breathed, and slid down, taking as much of him as she could into her mouth. His head fell back and he let out a moan that sent a bolt of heat straight to her core.

She wrapped her fingers around the base of his cock and stroked. It sounded like he was close already; she ran her tongue firmly over the swollen head and sucked down hard. With a muffled curse he bucked into her mouth and came, groaning his pleasure, fingers convulsively clutching at the thin blanket.

Hawke swallowed and wiped her mouth with her hand. She hopped up onto the cot to sit next to him while he recovered.

"I have a confession to make," he said, once he'd caught his breath.

"What's that?" she asked.

The corner of his mouth curled in what was unmistakably a smirk. "Grey Warden stamina isn't a myth."

She barely managed to squeak out a "What?" before he captured her mouth in a fierce kiss. This time, his hands were doing the wandering. With a deftness which, she had to admit, _almost_ matched her own, he eased her trousers over her hips and onto the floor. Her legs parted, and he left her lips to settle between her thighs.

For a moment, neither of them moved. Then he bent his head and dragged the flat of his tongue over her slit. She arched against him, crying out at the sensation, as he licked and kissed and stroked her halfway to oblivion.

The stories she'd heard about his misspent youth must have been true, because by the Maker and holy Andraste it was _good_. Even in her considerable experience it had never been like this. It drove all thoughts out of her head except lips and tongue and _oh, yes, yes, please, Anders_...

Wait a minute. What was she doing? This was _her_ seduction, dammit.

She fisted her hand in his hair and pulled. He came up, looking entirely too smug. "_Now_," she growled, punctuating it with a bruising kiss.

He grinned and got as far as "If you ins-" before she clamped her legs around him and rolled them over so she was straddling his thighs. _No more wasting time_. With a sigh, she sank down onto him, taking him as deep as she could, relishing the searing ache as she accommodated him and he reached up to cup her ass. She gave an experimental roll of her hips. _Yes_. This had definitely been worth the wait.

She withdrew and drove down again, grinding herself against him with every stroke. He certainly wasn't trying to be quiet now. His hands were tight on her hips, matching her rhythm then quickening the pace, filling her and stretching her as the pressure built. One hand moved between them and suddenly sparks danced across her skin, up her spine, and pushed her straight over the edge. Her nails scratched down his chest as she came, leaving faint red marks. He pumped into her, several more long strokes until he reached his own release, moaning something that could have been a curse or an endearment.

As soon as she could breathe again, she rolled off and settled in next to him. She didn't trust herself to stay upright.

"Well," she said. It was probably inadequate, but she didn't think she could manage any longer words.

"Yes," he replied, sounding a bit dazed.

"We should do this again sometime."

"Mmm." He put his arm around her shoulders and pulled her close, giving her a squeeze and a smile that was both fond and a little shy. "Thank you."

She planted a kiss on the underside of his chin and smiled back. "Anytime."


End file.
